Claimed by my Stepbrothers

Chapter 3: The Wolves at the Table

The mirror was a liar.

It told me I looked elegant in the plum-colored silk dress I’d found in the wardrobe. It told me the gold anklet—the one Jax had practically forced onto my skin—glittered like a promise. But I knew the truth. I looked like a sacrifice.

I stood at the top of the grand staircase, my fingers digging into the cold marble banister. My heart was a frantic bird fluttering against the cage of my ribs. Downstairs, I could hear the low, melodic clink of silverware against china and the deep, rumbling murmur of male voices.

Liam. Jax. Roman.

The three men who held my life in their calloused hands.

I took a breath, trying to steady the visible shake in my knees, and began the long descent. With every step, the air grew heavier, thick with the scent of expensive wine and the underlying musk of powerful men.

When I reached the arched entrance of the dining room, the conversation stopped instantly.

The room was lit by a massive crystal chandelier that cast jagged shadows across the walls. At the head of the table sat Liam. He looked like a god of old—beautiful, distant, and utterly merciless. To his right, Jax was leaning back, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his eyes immediately dropping to my legs to check for the gold he’d demanded I wear.

And then there was Roman. He sat to Liam’s left, a book resting closed beside his plate. He didn't smirk like Jax or glare like Liam. He just watched. His gaze felt like a surgical blade, peeling back my skin to see the secrets underneath.

"You’re late," Liam said. His voice wasn't loud, but it filled every corner with the room, vibrating in my very bones.

"I... I had trouble with the dress," I lied, my voice small.

Jax’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. "Need a hand next time, Khylie? I’m great with zippers. Even better with buttons."

"Sit," Liam commanded, ignoring Jax’s comment. He pointed to the chair at the far end of the table. The distance between us felt like a mile of minefields.

I sat. The chair was velvet, soft and inviting, but I felt like I was sitting on a throne of glass. A maid appeared out of the shadows, placing a plate of medium-rare steak in front of me. The sight of the red juices made my stomach turn.

"Eat," Roman said softly. "You’re pale. We can’t have our new guest fainting before the festivities even begin."

"What festivities?" I asked, my voice gaining a jagged edge of defiance. "I want to know when my father is coming back. I want to know why he left me here with... with people who treat me like a prisoner."

Liam set his fork down with a deliberate clack that made me flinch. He leaned forward, the candlelight dancing in his dark, icy eyes.

"Your father isn't coming back, Khylie. He didn't just leave you here. He traded you. He owed the Blackwood estate a debt that forty years of labor couldn't pay off. So he gave us the only thing he had left that carried the Blackwood name."

"I am not a currency!" I shouted, my chair scraping harshly against the floor as I stood up.

In a heartbeat, Jax was on his feet too. He moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, rounding the table before I could even turn to run. He caught me by the waist, his large hand splayed across the small of my back, pulling me flush against his hard chest.

"Careful, little bird," Jax whispered into my hair, his voice a low growl. "Anger makes you look delicious, but it won't get you out that door."

"Let her go, Jax," Liam said. It wasn't a request for my sake; it was a command for order.

Jax lingered for a second too long, his thumb brushing against the silk of my dress, over my hip bone, before he released me. I stumbled back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Why do you want me?" I whispered, looking from one brother to the next. "If you hate my father so much, why keep me here?"

Roman spoke up then, his voice calm and terrifyingly academic. "Because you are the only thing he ever loved. And we want to see what happens when that love belongs to us instead. We want to see if we can turn a saint into a sinner, Khylie."

Liam stood up, walking slowly toward me. The power radiating off him was suffocating. He stopped right in front of me, so close I had to tilt my head back to look at him. He reached out, his long fingers hooking under the neckline of my dress, not pulling, just... hovering.

"You think we're the villains of your story," Liam murmured, his eyes searching for mine. "And maybe we are. But this house is a fortress. Outside those gates, there are people who would do much worse than keep you in silk and gold. Here, you are safe."

"Safe?" I choked out a bitter laugh. "I feel like a lamb in a den of wolves."

Liam’s hand moved from my dress to my throat, his thumb resting over my thrumming pulse. He didn't squeeze, but the possessiveness in the gesture made my head spin.

"You're wrong about one thing, Khylie," Liam whispered, leaning down until his lips were brushed against my ear.

"We aren't the wolves. We’re the ones who hunt them."

He let go of me, his expression turning back into a mask of stone. "Finish your dinner. Tomorrow, your new life begins. You’ll be enrolled in the Academy. You’ll stay within our sight at all times. If you try to run, Jax will find you. If you try to lie, Roman will know. And if you disobey..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The silence that followed was more terrifying than any threat.

They left me there, alone in the massive dining room with a plate of cold food and a heart full of fire. I looked down at the gold anklet. I wanted to rip it off, but I knew Jax was right. I was a prisoner, and the bars were made of gold.

But as I stared at the door they had disappeared through, a small, dark part of me—a part I didn't recognize—wondered what it would feel like to truly belong to them.

And that was the most terrifying thought of all.